Duct Tape
by Emberwillow14
Summary: Don't ever challenge Eli, because you will lose, guaranteed. But I suppose it's worth it to fight with him. Because when he's hot and bothered...suffice to say he's MUCH more fun. Ch 1: He knew things about duct tape that would curl your toes in desire.
1. Duct Tape

**I love love love love LOVE this oneshot...I'm so happy. Thank you to DegrassiMC for proofing it...you rock :) This will be a series of oneshots updated periodically...I swear. Also, this is a bit different from what I've written in the past in the way I wrote it, but I hope you like it. It's supposed to be read in Clare's point of view, sort of like a blog or video diary or whatever. I'm leaving the context up to you. Suffice to say, she's documenting some of her experiences. The italics are her commentary, the regular is the memory she's writing about. Enjoy!**

**I do not own Degrassi...*sad face***

_Duct tape. How simple was that? Duct tape. Seemingly harmless, yet deadly in the hands of Eli. Oh, sure, it was safe as long as you were awake when Eli had it, but fall asleep and you belonged to him. You were his to play with, his to bend and break, because he knew things about duct tape that would curl your toes in fearful pleasure._

_You would think I was smarter than he was, that I knew, _knew_, not to fall asleep near him, _especially_ not in his bed, _especially_ not while he was fingering duct tape. But, alas, I was not such smart. Just thinking about what I awoke to makes me shake my head, though not always in a negative way._

I began to stir when I felt something sticky on my wrists. The boy I'd been pressed against during sleep, the body of warmth, had retreated, leaving my side cold. I further stirred when I tried to move my arms and realized they were tied down above my head, halting any movement.

My eyes opened slowly and I blinked, trying to erase the sleep from my foggy mind. "Eli?" I called. I looked above my head to find my hands taped together and against the bed. I rubbed my wrists together to try to slide them out from under the tape—black duct tape, to be exact—but found I could not. I sighed.

"You won't be able to get out of that," Eli's voice taunted. My eyes darted to where his voice came from, seeking him out in the half-darkness of his room. He stepped into the light and flashed me a stunning smile, one that screamed I'm-up-to-no-good and when-you're-tied-up-like-this-you-are-the-sexiest-thing-in-the-world. I felt my cheeks flush with what felt like desire and anticipation.

I didn't want to give up without a fight, so I tried to play it tough. "Just because you've got me tied down doesn't mean you're getting any."

His eyes flashed with the challenge. "Clare," he drawled my name, swirling it around his tongue as if it were a fine wine. He stepped forward, so close to the bed I could feel the warmth radiating off of his body. Suddenly, I realized why I'd been so cold when Eli's hand brushed up my naked skin.

_As a side note, before I continue this, I want you all to know that Eli is _very_ good with his hands. And it's not just in the regular way either. For instance, some guys carry pens like swords (and as well they should) carefully, with almost an art to the dexterity of their grip. But Eli, crafty Eli, had hands so deftly acute they could remove my bra without even alerting me as to what was happening. I will tell you, that is nothing short of a miracle considering what my bra holds up._

_So when I say I didn't realize he'd taken my clothes off, I am fully qualified to make that assertion. It's perfectly normal in our relationship, actually, for me to not even realize what he's doing with his hands until he's already done it. Now, I want you to know, I am in no way complaining. I just want you to be aware so you don't sit there and read this and go "What a dumbass. How could she not even notice him taking her clothes off?"_

I shivered under his warm fingers, elating as the touch trailed from hip to shoulder, up my neck, over my cheek, across my lips, against my tongue. My eyes closed as his finger swirled around in my mouth, distracting me so I didn't realize, until too late, his mouth pressing against my stomach, his tongue tasting the skin.

_What did I tell you? He has a way of distracting me! It's completely his fault._

His tongue was hot as it brushed against my stomach, leaving a trail of superheated skin only slightly chilled by the sub-zero room.

_That may be hyperbole, but I promise it's as close to the truth as I can tell you. It's almost as if Eli's room is negative degrees! I'm not being funny either! I swear to God he doesn't have a heater and he hates blankets. The kid's a penguin._

I managed to force his fingers from my mouth, but they only receded to trail down my neck to brush against my breast. His lips trailed up to meet his hands and suddenly I was in no way, shape, or form cold any longer. My body acted of its own accord, lifting from the bed to press tighter against Eli's body.

Eli pulled away suddenly, removing all of the warmth of his body—

_I still get mad when he does that, even if he is just playing._

—to lean over my face, smirking triumphantly. My chest rose and fell in time to my heavy and labored breathing. His hand folded into my hair, forcing me to look at him as he spoke in his sultry voice. "Now that I have you all hot," his breath fanned across my face as his words wrapped around my ears and I closed my eyes, involuntarily enraptured by the man above me, "and bothered, what were you saying earlier? I believe your exact words were 'Just because you've got me tied down doesn't mean you're getting any.'"

_I folded. I know, you're probably thinking I'm weak and misrepresent the females of the world and blah, blah, blah, but you have to understand: Eli can be _very_ persuasive. Especially when he shows you what he means instead of telling you. Don't ever challenge Eli, because you will lose, guaranteed. _

_But I suppose it's worth it to fight with him, come to think of it. Because when _he's _hot and bothered…suffice to say he's _much_ more fun. _

**Mmm...think on that last line and have sweet dreams tonight ;)**

**Good? Bad? Need MORE? LET ME KNOW!**

**Em =]**


	2. Drink It

**And here you go! Chapter two! I just finished Teach Me Take Me and am SO HAPPY with the way it ended and with how many people enjoyed it! Thank you all who have stuck with me through all of my stories! Hopefully you will all like this one! I was inspired by my Thanksgiving, believe it or not...but this didn't come to me until just now. At any rate I hope you all ENJOY!**

_Have you ever had alcohol? A drink, no matter how small? It's funny. You see, normally I would never have ever considered having a drink, let alone one around Eli…but I was over his house yesterday and…well, like I've said, Eli is _very_ persuasive._

I was sitting on the couch in his basement, taking in the pool table, rack of pool sticks against the wall, flat screen TV, dart board, and refrigerator. He had music playing in the background, some indie-rock that I was surprised he even listened to. He'd gotten up to get me a drink, but he was taking a long time, longer than he should have. "Eli?" I called. I was about to turn around when a cup with what looked like orange juice floated in my vision, held by a hand connected to an arm from behind me. "What is this?"

Eli's voice crooned in my ear. "Just drink it."

_I'm not an idiot. I know when Eli's trying to get me to do something I normally wouldn't do. So I said something about his evasive attitude._

"Tell me what it is."

"Mimosa."

"Virgin?"

His breath fanned against my neck as he chuckled. "No, I'm not. And, ever since I deflowered you at that abandoned church, neither are you."

_That was _not_ funny and _not_ entirely accurate. We made out and fooled around some, but we didn't have sex. The deflowering came later, after the rainstorm at his house….what a night._

"Why did you put alcohol in my drink, Eli? Trying to get me drunk so you can get lucky?"

I felt him smirk against my ear. "I don't have to get you drunk to get lucky, Clare, and we both know that."

I scoffed and turned away from him, still feeling the blush grazing my cheeks. "I don't want any alcohol, Eli."

His lips kissed my neck persistently, oblivious to my protests. "Just one drink, Clare."

I shook my head. "Not going to happen."

He tried harder, his free hand joining the mix, pushing my hair behind my shoulder and twining in the roots, pulling and tugging with the pressure in his lips, making me lose my resolve bit by bit.

"Mm, Eli…no…uhm…oh….no…come on don't do this." I sounded pathetic, but I couldn't muster up anything other than that while he was doing what he was doing.

He nipped at my ear. "Do what?" he asked, his voice husky and deep. I felt my eyes droop at the passion and need in his voice.

"This…what you're…Oh!...doing."

Eli continued to kiss me. Somehow, without my knowing, he'd put the drink down on the table. I only knew that because his other hand started to trail up my arm, sending my flesh rising in goose bumps. It stopped at my neck, opposite his lips, and traced patterns lightly over my skin, flowing from below my ear to the base of my neck. "Eli…not….fair."

I was giving up. I could feel my body reacting to him, giving in to his every whim. And he could sense I was close to my breaking point. The hand that was in my hair receded and came back with the drink, pressing the edge of the glass cup to my lips. I parted them to receive the concoction and nearly chocked as the Champaign and orange juice slid down my throat. Eli pulled back and hopped the back of the couch, turning my head to him as he took a long drag of the drink.

I wiped my mouth and shook my head at him. "You'll be the death of me yet," I complained. Eli just smirked triumphantly. "Wipe that smirk off your face, it's not funny."

Eli raised an eyebrow. "Make me."

I sighed because he always challenged me and jumped him, knocking the drink to the floor. He was beneath me, my lips on his, before he had a chance to object. I kissed him, long and deep, and worked the buttons on his shirt apart, ripping his flannel lumberjack shirt open and exposing his white chest. My lips trailed down his neck to explore the plains of his exposed skin.

His hands were in my hair again, tugging at the roots, trying to pull me back up to his lips, but I refused, sticking to his chest. I pulled back to look at him, taking in the chiseled plains of his chest, the newly defined abs. I smiled, knowing he must have been working out more. That, or all of our…ahem…_activity_…was good for his body. I got the sudden urge to touch his abs, to kiss them. I leaned down and licked the length of his abdomen, feeling his muscles contract under my lips. I smirked against his skin at the moan that passed through his lips.

"Clare," he groaned out. I smirked and slid up his body, caressing his lips in a light, barely-there kiss. His lips parted silently under mine, but I pulled back completely, separating my body from his, slipping up the stairs, past the kitchen, up more stairs to his room.

_I was asking for it, I'll admit. But after the attention Eli gave to me earlier…so sue me. I waited for him until he got to the room and then…well…you know what happened. I don't need to tell you. But what I _do _need to tell you is that Eli is _extremely_ good with his hands. I know I've said it before, but _seriously_…no lie…I'll have to tell you about it…next time. _

**Well at least you know what's going to be up next ;)**

**How was it? Good? Bad? Let me know PLEASE! And thank you so much for reading!**

**Em =]**


	3. Inspiration

**I have to give credit to my friend Sam for giving me this idea, and ChrisKnight48 for the inspiration behind this. I will get you to write yet! haha I hope you all enjoy this!**

_Writer's block. These two words strike fear into the hearts of every writer in the world. For me, ever since I've been going out with Eli, writer's block has never been a problem. And neither, I thought, had it been for Eli either…but one day, he lost all ability to write._

_You see, our English teacher likes to give us prompts so that we can improve our writing. That's all well and good, but when we have to write genres outside of our comfort zones, things start to get interesting. The prompt this week? Romance. The one genre that Eli cannot write to save his life? Romance._

"Clare I can't do this," he said to me, throwing his notebook and pen down on the table, passing his hands forcefully over his face.

I sighed and put my own writing aside. "Yes you can, Eli."

I watched him shake his head. "It's impossible. I just don't have a knack for writing romance. Romance is your forte, not mine."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Eli, you of all people should know that to be a great writer you have to push yourself past your limits, writing things even if you are uncertain about it, even if you don't think it's good. Push yourself. Just _try."_

He shook his head. "I can't do it. I have no inspiration whatsoever."

I shot him a disbelieving look at that, feeling my eyebrow scoop up. "Now why do I find _that_ hard to believe?"

He smirked at me. "Clare, I can't write about what you and I do."

I shook my head. "You don't have to. Just use what we do as a platform for whatever you're going to write."

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Impossible."

I sighed, knowing I was going to have to do something to give him inspiration. I got up quietly and crossed the room to him, silent as a mouse. Before he could open his eyes I sat down on his lap, straddling his hips. One of my hands fisted in his hair at the nape of his neck, the other tugged and played with the top of his shirt.

He opened his eyes and was about to say something when I shushed him. "I'm going to pry this story from you, even if I have to do it with my teeth." I felt him shudder beneath me. "Close your eyes. Imagine we're characters from your story." My hand played with his hair. "What can you feel?" I blew gently in his ear. "What are your senses telling you? Listen to your body, Eli.

"What does it feel like to have my hand playing with your hair? Can you feel it? Can you feel my fingers pulling at the roots, fisting in your dark locks, then letting go? How does my breath feel against your ear; your neck; your lips? Can you feel the heat of my body, pressed against yours intimately, _sensually_?"

I chuckled in his ear when I felt his jeans pull taunt. "What are you hearing? The sound of my voice? The sound of my heart beating? Can you hear me calling out your name already, deep in the throes of passion? How does it sound to your ears? Is it sweet? Erotic?"

My fingers ghosted over his eyelids. "What are you seeing? Are your eyes open? Closed? What pictures are being painted behind those dark eyelashes, eyelids? Are you picturing what I'm doing to you? Are you picturing me, scantily clad? What does it look like? Is it a definite picture? Or is it colors; shapes; symbols?"

They skimmed over his lips before pressing against them, further, into his wet mouth. "What do you taste? Me? What do I taste like? Explain it to me, Eli. Am I sweet, like cotton candy? Am I warm, like spiced rum? Fruity, like a strawberry daiquiri? Do you taste anything at all?"

I leaned down and nuzzled his ear. "Write it to me." I smirked and stood up, marching back to my own writing assignment. I could see him out of the corner of my eye, looking at me, incredulous. I smirked and bit my pen.

_He nearly killed me for that. Remember the duct tape incident? What followed my help was a repeat of that…multiplied by twenty due to his newly inspired neediness. He was rough, but what can I say? He's mine. _

_Thanks to me, not that he'll ever admit it, Eli got an impressed nod from our teacher when he turned his paper in, though he never did show me what exactly it was that he wrote. I'm going to pry that information out of his hands if it kills me, I swear to it._

_Oh, and before I leave, all of you aspiring writers, listen up! Keep writing and challenge yourself. Even if you write something completely horrible, it's a start, right? And you're on the path to becoming a great novelist! Besides, who knows where your inspiration will come from?_

**After all of these a winky face seems to be in order. Can't you see her winking after that last line? I can...here it is: ;]**

**Anyways, thank you all for reading this! I'm so glad you are all liking this story (however random it may be)! Oh, and I've not written the story about how good Eli is with his hands yet...but it's coming, don't worry!**

**Em =]**


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